


A Study In Light And Darkness

by sitabethel



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Deathshipping, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 21:23:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4452884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sitabethel/pseuds/sitabethel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The cancer is killing Amane. Feeling helpless, Ryou seeks out her favorite artist, Mariku Ishtar, in order to commission him to paint her something before she dies. Deathshipping/AU/Mature fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (A birthday fic for MooksMookin) I'm posting this on here (along with all my other fics) as back-up in case anything ever gets removed on ff net.
> 
> *** 
> 
> Disclaimer: Amane dies. Let's get that out of the way. Everything else is bad language and smut and nothing all that serious, but Amane does die.
> 
> ***
> 
> "Someone has to die in order that the rest of us should value life more. It's contrast." Virginia Woolf in The Hours

Ryou Bakura Googled his address. It was amazing, the things one could Google these days. Ryou walked down the street, ignoring the people that walked past him, ignoring the fast food wrappers, paper cups, and broken malt liquor bottles that filled the gutters. His mind felt like the city, crowded, polluted, dirty, and tired. He'd been up all night at the hospital, waiting on the doctor, praying in the little chapel on the ground floor, deciding he was an atheist because if there was a God, He wouldn't let his sister have cancer, and then deciding that he wasn't an atheist because he didn't like the thought of his sister rotting in a box with no afterlife. By the end of it all, hours later, all the doctor said was "She's stable for now. We'll have to wait and see."

Ryou Bakura didn't want to wait and see how long it would take for Amane to die.

He rubbed his eyes, inky circles already bruising his eyes from too many sleepless nights, but it could have been worse, he could have been bald (like Amane), he could have been nothing but a frail skeleton because the chemo made him too sick to eat (like Amane).

She was going to spend the rest of her life, three days or three months, in that godawful hospital and Ryou couldn't take it.

The room was too common, cream-colored walls, ugly chartreuse and turquoise drapes covering the window, a bad painting of a bowl of fruit. Amane had a scholarship to go to art school, a scholarship she'd never be able to use. She loved art. Before she got sick, Amane woke up every morning just to sketch the sunrise; she'd stay up late each night to paint the stars. She deserved better than a goddamn picture of a bowl of fruit.

Hence Ryou's very strange quest which led him to a shady neighborhood about three blocks from Amane's hospital. Amane's favorite painter lived down that street, and Ryou Bakura had a mind to commission him to paint her something to hang in the hospital room.

It would not be an easy quest.

According to Wikipedia, Mariku Ishtar was the picture book definition of the isolated, broody artist, an eccentric introvert with a list of mental disorders and a larger list of bad PR incidents. He was especially known for physically beating critics of his work to the point of hospitalization. As far as the article read, Mr. Ishtar had even been imprisoned for assault three times because of such incidents. It only made his art more popular, abstract smears of reds, purples, and blacks that Ryou didn't understand but Amane gushed over non-stop.

He found the building and buzzed the call button. A shaft opened. The rusty, cage-style elevator within looked less safe than a game of Russian Roulette, but Ryou stepped inside. The recluse hated reporters, hated his agent, even hated his admirers, but Ryou did not give one single damn.

Amane would have her painting.

The elevator rocked and groaned as it struggled to lift Ryou to the top of the otherwise vacant building that Mr. Ishtar owned. It stopped on the top floor with an ear-piercing screech. The main door opened, but the cage remained closed. Through the bars, Ryou saw a man leaning against the brick wall framing the elevator. He looked like he never brushed his platinum blonde hair; it stood in maniacal spikes and cowlicks. He wore paint-splattered jeans and nothing else, and smelled of vodka even at a distance.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Ryou tried to smile; it made him feel like prey. "Hello, my name is Ryou Bakura. I was wondering if I could speak to you for a moment?"

"No." Mariku moved to slam the "close" button on the elevator door.

"Wait you asshole!" Ryou shouted, lack of sleep and unbearable stress finally breaking him.

Mariku paused a moment, eyebrow cocked high. He pulled the gate to the side and stepped inside the elevator. Ryou backed away as the artist rushed him, pinning Ryou to the wall.

"You want to say that again, Bunny?"

"I-I j-just, I wanted -"

"Speak up, Bunny. I can't quite hear you over all the sniveling."

"Fuck you," Ryou hissed, "and I'm not a bunny."

The drunk artist chuckled, tangling his dark fingers into Ryou's already slightly tangled, white hair. "You could have fooled me, Bunny."

"My sister loves your work."

"I don't give autographs"

"She's 19."

"So what?"

"She's dying."

"We're all dying. It's the price of living."

" _Right now_. Maybe she has a month or six, but not a year. She'll never be twenty. She'll never-" Ryou choked on his words,  _forcing_  himself not to break down in front of a stranger. "I want a painting."

Mariku leaned closer. The scent of vodka made Ryou gag. Mariku didn't seem concerned with this. "Art isn't a command. I do not sit. I do not speak. I do not paint because you order me to."

Ryou started laughing, a wild mixture of stress, grief, and sleep deprivation made his head giddy and he heard his own voice joking although his brain felt like a detached observer. "Not even for a Scooby Snack?"

Mariku laughed as well, pulling his fingers out of Ryou's hair in order to draw them down his cheek instead. "Why are you so white, little Bunny?"

"Why are your eyes lavender?"

"Touché." He grabbed Ryou's throat, leaning closer still. "You're a smartass."

"No." Ryou said between choking breaths. Part of him  _wished_  Marik meant the hand on his throat. If he was serious, Ryou could die first and never have to worry about Amane again. He could meet his mom, and then his sister could join them, and it would be the closest thing to a happy ending Ryou could see his story ever having. He looked into Mariku's pale purple eyes, daring him. "Usually I'm quite polite. I guess it's something about  _you_."

"How about this?" Mariku slipped his hand up Ryou's striped t-shirt, caressing the pale, white stomach. "I can gut you." As he said the word  _gut_ , Mariku jabbed his finger hard right below Ryou's pantline, dragging his nail all the way up to Ryou's sternum. "And then hang you upside down from a hook, collecting your blood in several buckets, and use  _that_  to paint a picture for you sweet little sister. Would you like that, Bunny?"

"If you're short on supplies, I could buy the paint for you," Ryou said with a practical tone, still feeling detached from the situation, like he was watching a movie instead of experiencing it.

"No, no, no, using paint wouldn't give it that personal touch. You want the best for your sister, don't you?"

Ryou stared at the man pressed against him, with his hand firm, but loose enough, on Ryou's throat, and his other hand still poking into his chest. "You get off on this shit, don't you?"

Mariku brought their lips a hair's length away from each other, so close that Ryou could feel the movement in Mariku's facial muscles when he smiled. "Maybe just a touch."

Ryou didn't flinch, not from the closeness, nor from the suffocating thickness of alcohol vapors breathing onto Ryou's face. "Give me a knife and bowl."

Mariku pulled back an inch, eyes looking drunken and confused. "Why?"

"You want to paint with my blood? Okay. I'll give you some blood and you can mix it with your paint, but I get the first thing you paint to give to my sister."

"You can't simply  _donate_  the blood." Mariku stumbled to the adjacent wall of the elevator, glaring at Ryou.

"Why not?"

"Why not? Because it takes away all the fun of gutting you like a little bunny and hanging you up on the ceiling to dry."

Ryou narrowed his serpentine-green eyes at Mariku. "What if I let you hunt me?"

Mariku tossed his head back and laughed. "So, we turn off the lights like kids playing hide and seek, only when I find you, instead of becoming  _it_  you get stabbed?"

Ryou stared at the elevator floor, noticing the stains and dust collecting below their feet. "If that's what it takes."

Mariku's laugh grew loud, manic. "I'm drunk, and mentally ill, and an artist - which is arguable a worse thing to be than the other two. Do you realize that what you're suggesting sounds fucking insane even to me?"

Ryou shook his head. "I don't care."

Mariku stopped laughing. The silence that filled the elevator rang painful inside Ryou's head because of its stillness. Mariku stumbled back to Ryou, propping each hand against the wall on either side of Ryou and leaning close again. "I want to meet this kid."

Ryou's head jerked up. "Amane?"

"Do you have a different sister dying of cancer?"

"I'm not sure that's a good idea. She's sick. You're an asshole. I'd rather she not have to deal with you." Ryou bit his lip, eyebrows knitting together. "Why would you even  _want_  to? You seem to hate everyone."

He snorted heat and vodka vapors into Ryou's face. "Because, sweet, little Bunny, she has inspired you. She inspired you to find me. She inspired you to face me despite the risks to yourself. She inspired you to  _sacrifice_  yourself just to ease her passing." Some strange look overtook Mariku's face at that moment, and Ryou Bakura found himself pitying the man despite himself. Their eyes met and held together for a moment before Mariku continued. "I've run out of inspiration . . . haven't painted in over a year. I drink and sleep. I want to meet this muse of yours."

"Not drunk," Ryou insisted. "And not if you're going to be an asshole. I swear to God if you if you aggravate my sister's condition I will do  _much worse_  than hang you from a fucking meat hook."

Mariku returned to a wobbling standing position. "Relax, Bunny, I can behave in public if I feel like it."

"And you have to shower and sober up before I take you anywhere."

"Can't sober up too much. I'll DT."

"Do you have coffee?"

"Pffffft, vodka, vodka, more vodka, and there may be a pizza in the fridge from two days ago."

An irritated noise escaped Ryou's throat. "Let's start with the shower, and work on sobering you up afterwards."

Mariku stepped out of the elevator and into the studio proper, raising his hands in an over dramatic gesture. "Then let the shower begin! Come, Bunny, let us shower!"

"You shower. Alone."

"But Bunny, I'm drunk! I could slip and fall and die and never be able to paint a picture for your sweet sister. You must hold me and make sure that doesn't happen." He gave Ryou an evil wink, already unzipping the fly of his paint-speckled jeans.

"It's a risk I'm willing to take."

"No fun." He slid the pants off of his legs. He didn't seem to bother with underwear, so Ryou had a full view of Mariku's round, graham-cracker-colored ass.

Ryou tried averting his eyes, but they kept slipping back to Mariku's ass, the way Mariku's thigh muscles rippled as he walked with a slight sway, and the chaos of scars of Mariku's back. Ryou wondered about them, vague lines, thick slashes, one on his right shoulder that looked like a badly done smiley face, but Ryou kept his lips pressed together to avoid being rude.

There was no bathroom. The studio was one huge room with a tiled section in one corner for a kitchen, and a tub and toilet in a separate corner. Mariku filled up the tub, steam floating from the basin like magic from a cauldron. He dumped some sort of herbal gel into the scalding water and bubbles foamed up over the lip as the smell of jasmine invaded the room. Ryou hoped that the jasmine would help cover up the vodka sweating out of his pores.

As Mariku busied himself with scrubbing, Ryou looked around the apartment. It had an odd charm despite the destitution. The furniture was simple and elegant, a black, velvet chaise and futon near a fireplace, a day bed pressed against the wall away from the kitchen, thick rugs to fight off the chill of the brick walls and concrete floors. The studio had more art supplies than Ryou had ever seen, and there were plenty of windows, although they were painted over in shades of black and dark red.

"You have a nice place," Ryou muttered, staring at the paintings on the wall.

"You have a nice ass."

Ryou spun around and glared at Mariku. He kept his gleaming, thistle-colored eyes trained on Ryou, a sleek smile pulling at his lips. His left arm hung along the lip of the tub, a heaving, antique mass of copper with high, curving sides. It suited him, an erotic, copper beauty bathing in a copper bathtub. Ryou noticed, for the first time, the gold bracelets and choker he wore. The metal flashed with droplets of water and overhead lighting, and those suited him as well, accenting his skin and matching his hair.

"I see you staring." Mariku Ishtar licked his lips, confident and blatant in his wants.

Ryou blushed and turned back to the artwork. "Please hurry so we can get this over with."

"Hurry? No, I'm afraid I can't. This opportunity is too unique to squander."

"Opportunity?" Ryou rolled his eyes back towards Mariku, wondering what he meant.

Mariku slid his fingers along the wet curves of muscle stretched across his chest, wandering lower until his hands sank beneath the bubbles. "I so rarely get to-" his breath hitched as some unseen ministration beneath the soap and foam excited him. " _Entertain_  guests."

"Because you're an asshole, otherwise you'd have more friends." Ryou's voice maintained a conversational tone, as if he didn't notice the way Mariku's eyes lidded as he stared at Ryou and touched himself, as if Ryou's own cock wasn't burgeoning at the diorama set before him.

"But Bunny," Mariku gave a mocking whine to his words as he started to pant between bits of speech, "don't you think this is serendipitous? Two people with similar interests and no time - or patience in my case - for a relationship . . . in the same room, together, without distraction. It's the perfect opportunity to -  _ahh_  - relieve some stress."

Ryou rolled his eyes. He pulled off his shirt and slung it to the ground, marching to the tub. Mariku's eyes rounded in anticipation, but Ryou only snorted at the response. "Don't try that poetic bullshit with me. It's not serendipity - you're a slut, but I'm not one of your art groupies."

"Yeah? You're half naked already."

Ryou knelt at the head of the tub, grabbing the shampoo and shaking a glob out onto Mariku's mess of hair. "Not to fuck you."

"Fuck me?" Mariku shouted. "You had  _that_  reversed."

"Did I?" Ryou smiled, wetting his hands in the tube before scrubbing Mariku's scalp. "Guess it doesn't really matter since it's not happening either way."

"What are you doing?" Mariku asked, irritated.

"Washing your hair. Visiting hours start at five, it's three, and I still need to get some food and coffee in you to try and sober you up before we go to the hospital."

"Food? Gross, no, I don't want food."

"I don't want a drunk painter talking to my sister."

"But you want this drunk painter to paint for your sister."

"Why do you think I'm still here?"

"Sex will sober me up."

"I don't think that's how it works."

"Sure. It increases blood flow."

"Ethanol is metabolised in the liver. Would increased heart rate change anything?"

"Well coffee sure as hell doesn't help."

"Hold your breath," Ryou warned, waiting for Mariku to suck in a breath before dunking his head under the sud-laced water.

When he came up, he twisted onto his stomach so he could face Ryou. "Don't tell me you're not tempted. I saw the gleam in your eye."

Ryou stood, shaking his wet arms and hands. "It's called self-restraint. You should try it sometime."

"Sounds awful." Mariku reached out and pressed into the bulge in Ryou's pants.

Ryou closed his mouth to mute the noise trying to escape his mouth at the heavy, broad touch. It was nice, the touch. His life had been consumed by doctor visits, tests, sleepless nights, the distraction was welcomed ... needed.

He leaned over, gripping the copper tub with both hands and pressing back against the touch. "We're . . . not . . . sleeping together . . ."

"You don't sound too sure about that," Mariku purred, palming Ryou's erection through the thick jean fabric.

"I am. I don't have one night stands."

"Great." Mariku gave a sarcastic snort, hand never ceasing. "I find the one queer in the entire city that doesn't like one night stands."

Ryou combed his fingers into Mariku's pyrite spikes, tugging hard and jerking Mariku's face upward. The cool, glass green of Ryou's eyes bore into Mariku's lavender ones. "I have enough to worry about right now. I don't have time for your shit."

"Goddamn, you're hot when you're assertive. Maybe, just maybe, I would let you top, but you seem rather against having any sort of fun."

"You're trying to bait me."

"Yes."

"It's not working."

Mariku sighed. "What about a compromise?"

He forced his head down, despite Ryou's firm grip in his hair, and undid the button to Ryou's jeans.

Ryou sighed, aggravated. "How is this a compromise? Looks like you're still trying to get laid to me."

"It's not fucking - technically." Mariku tugged at Ryou's zipper and shifted his pants and boxers to the bath mat below Ryou's feet.

Ryou's erection swayed, brushing against Mariku's nose. The darker male chuckled, as if the touch tickled, and then grabbed Ryou's shaft. He gave one last glance to Ryou who stood and watched with detached interest, and then he swallowed Ryou's entire length.

"Christ!" Ryou shouted. He'd expected Mariku to tease him, trying to get Ryou to consent to some greater form of intercourse. At the least, he'd expected a less tempting, less intimate hand job, not a hot, wet mouth enveloping his cock. Ryou closed his eyes, the other hand tangling into Mariku's wet hair. He was so tired, and so stressed, and so worn down, and the heat around him was the first pleasant moment he'd had in weeks.

Mariku pulled back slowly, popping his lips as Ryou's tip slipped free. "Acceptable compromise?"

"Not returning the favor," Ryou grunted, eyes still shut, mind screaming for Mariku's mouth to return to his twitching need.

"What a mean little Bunny," Mariku chided, swallowing Ryou whole again and sucking hard.

"Fuck!" Ryou's white hair dangled in front of his face and he leaned forward.

Holding onto Mariku's hair like reins, Ryou began to buck into Mariku's opened mouth. He couldn't take it, the heat, the soft friction of Mariku's lips, the offer of setting his life aside for a few minutes and losing himself in physical need and physical release.

Mariku took Ryou's rough handling in stride, purring at the hair tugging and aggressive bucking. One hand stayed at the base of Ryou's shaft, but the other grabbed and kneaded Ryou's ass. Water splashed over the copper sides of the tub, but Mariku didn't seem concerned.

Ryou's legs shook; he had to focus to keep himself upright when all he wanted to do was collapse to the floor. They'd picked an asinine pose for a blow job, but they were too far into it for Ryou to try and switch their positions, so he held on, and leaned over, and bent his knees for the best angle as he all but fucked Mariku's mouth.

Ryou raised his head and screamed long and loud into the studio apartment as he came, grateful that no one else lived in the building. His fingers fell from Mariku's spikes of hair and he braced himself against the front of the tub. "Sorry," Ryou whispered. "I should have warned you."

Mariku didn't complain; he merely stared at Ryou, licking his lips and grinning.

Ryou felt shaky, and exhausted, and a mix of irritated at himself for acting so out of character and proud of himself for the same reason. He stepped out of his pants and climbed into the tub with Mariku. The wall of bubbles had reduced itself to a few foamy islands, and the water was tepid, but Ryou hardly noticed as he stared at Mariku, whose lips were plump from friction and whose face was flushed from effort.

Ryou grabbed Mariku's cock, both hard and huge in Ryou's slender hand. Mariku gasped, his eyelashes fluttered at Ryou's touch.

"You get this today." Ryou punctuated his sentence with a tug of his hand that made Mariku swallow a little grunt. "If you act decently at the hospital - I might return tomorrow."

Mariku muttered something. Ryou knew it was sarcastic, but ignored the incoherent words as he started shifting his hand up and down. He kept a firm hold, feeling the skin slide up and down Mariku's hardness. Ryou squirmed into a more comfortable position in the tub, bringing himself closer to Mariku's body. The artist leaned forward, giving Ryou's neck light nibbles. He sank his teeth deep into Ryou's collarbone and Ryou jerked back, slapping Mariku's face.

"Ow! What the hell, Bunny? I was just being playful."

"I'm  _not_  a whore! Don't bite me like you rented me!"

"Shit, you slap like a pimp, maybe I'm the whore."

One hand stayed wrapped around Mariku's erection, not moving, but gripping tight. The other rubbed at the forming bruise. "I'm sorry. It was a reflex."

Mariku chuckled, grabbing Ryou's hand and pulling it away from his collarbone. He nursed the bruise with dabs of his tongue and chaste kisses. "Don't stop. This is interesting."

Ryou snorted, but moved his hand in a steady rhythm. "That slap just turned you on more, didn't it?"

"Yes," Mariku hissed, licking Ryou's throat hard. "Pain is the spice of life. Do you  _fuck_  as hard as you  _slap_?"

Ryou blushed, feeling awful for having done it. "I'm really a timid person, but you somehow manage to bring out the worst in me."

"I have that effect on people."

Ryou opened his mouth to apologize, realized there was no need because Mariku didn't care, and continued with his hand job. Their movements made the water heave onto the floor. It annoyed Ryou so he found the chain with his toe and yanked it to pull the plug and drain the water. They shivered as the water seeped away from their bodies, but Ryou couldn't help by stare at the ripples of muscles revealed inch by inch as the water sank down the drain. Droplets of jasmine-scented water clung to Mariku's chest like dew as he heaved in strong, wanting breaths. Mariku continued to squirm and fuss, trying to push himself in and out of Ryou's grip.

"Oh Bunny!" he shouted, mouth opened and eyes shut.

"You've got to be kidding me," Ryou grumbled close to Mariku's face, keeping his pace steady.

"What?" Mariku gasped, his length pulsing in Ryou's hand as he neared his end.

"That stupid nickname. My name is Ryou."

"Mmmmmm, Bunny. Sweet Bunny. Cute little Bunny. Grab my dick  _harder_ , Bunny."

Ryou did grab harder, his teeth clenching. "It's not dirty talk if it sounds ridiculous."

Ryou's disapproval only spurred Mariku on. "Ohhh yes. Yes, Bunny. Touch me, Bunny, touch me, touch - oh - oh shit -  _oh holy fuck_!" Mariku threw his head back as semen splashed over his stomach and chest, beading up on his wet skin.

Ryou wrinkled his nose at the mess, but he remembered how Mariku had swallowed without complaint, so Ryou brought his own hand up to his mouth and licked a small dollop of cum off of his wrist.

Mariku eyed Ryou, a lurid grin decorated his face. "Damn, Bunny, if I could paint half as well as people think I can I would fill a sketchbook with nothing but you."

 


	2. Chapter 2

They went to a local Italian place between Mariku's apartment and the hospital. Ryou sipped his second cappuccino as he waited for his order of penne.

"Coffee will only keep you awake for so many days." Mariku shook his head as he sipped a glass of wine.

"Perhaps alcohol is a better choice?"

"I told you, I don't want the shakes."

Ryou sighed. "It's none of my business, really. It's not like my sister doesn't already know you're a drunk and a bastard. I just wish . . ." his sentence floated out into the room with the smells of garlic and rosemary.

"That has nothing to do with me. You wish she wasn't going to die."

Ryou shot a cold stare at Mariku. "That's obvious. I wanted to say I wished she had a better artistic role model."

"Bunny, I'm hurt. You think so low of me when I've been nothing but nice to you."

"You're not nice. You're not nice at all. Anybody can suck a dick."

"Bunny, that's no way to talk in public!" Mariku gasped with mock offense.

"Wikipedia made you seem so dark and menacing, but you're really just annoying."

A guttural chuckle left Mariku's mouth. "Dark and menacing helps sales, and you're simply lucky - if anyone else barged into my day like you did, I would have sent them home with a broken face." Mariku finished his wine with a large swallow. "You just happened to catch me in a mood where I wanted to pet a bunny."

Ryou snorted at that. "And normally I don't tolerate that kind of haphazard treatment. You just caught me on a day I needed a distraction."

"No insult in that. This whole thing is a cheap distraction. You're trying to forget  _why_ you came to see me in the first place - I'm trying to forget that I was in the middle of drinking myself to death when you interrupted me."

"You make me sick," Ryou snapped. "So many people want to live and can't. How do you just toss your life in the trash like that?"

"Fuck you. If I jumped into traffic right now it wouldn't make your sister live a single day more or less so don't project on me."

"It still seems like a waste. You have money and talent and admirers of that talent, so what's with the vodka and self pity?"

The waitress brought their food. They paused and smiled at her, stabbing at their plates with forks but paying more attention to their conversation.

Mariku gave Ryou a wry smile. "It's going to take more than one date to get my life story, Bunny."

Ryou flushed. "This isn't a date."

"No?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Dates are with people you're interested in."

"It just so happens." Mariku leaned close to whisper in a conspiratorial tone. "That I find you very interesting."

"I'm only doing this for my sister."

"You're lying."

"Am I?"

"You secretly find this engaging, but to admit that would leave you emotionally vulnerable - a luxury you cannot afford under the circumstances." A villainous grin curled around Mariku's face. "Prudent of you, really. I'm not safe, I'm not stable, and I'm definitely not good for you, better to keep your walls up around me, regardless of my bad boy charm."

Ryou found himself returning Mariku's smile. "Hmmm ... you're so full of yourself that you can't even analyze me without making it about you. Am I allowed to play this game as well? You suffer from delusions of grandeur, perpetuated by your artist status, but like so many others with artistic bents, you suffer with bouts of depression and anxiety, often feeling like you're unworthy of your success and then you feel pressured to maintain the facade so no one realizes your talent is fake."

"What are you? My therapist?"

"Hit the mark, did I?"

"Did I not as well?"

"I'm a florist," Ryou answered Mariku's earlier question."

"Gay florist. That's very original of you, Bunny."

"Yes, well, we can't all avoid the tropes of our social groups and be broody, manic-depressive artists."

"Touché, Bunny. You know, we should really quit talking. I think I'm growing fond of you."

"I think I'm too numb to feel anything right now. I don't even mind the nickname anymore. You overused it, and the irritation factor lost all its potency."

"What a mutually satisfying relationship we've seemed to struck up this afternoon."

Ryou snorted laughter, his head floating in a pool of sleep exhaustion. "Satisfying relationship indeed, I can't tell how much of you is manipulation and how much is the alcohol leaving your system."

"The game is more fun when you have to guess."

"Wouldn't that be a twist? If sober you were a semi-pleasant human being?"

"Seems unlikely."

"Do you even remember how you act sober?"

"Not really."

They finished. Mariku covered the check and then winked at Ryou as if it proved that they were, indeed, on a date. Ryou rolled his eyes and kept his arms crossed to suggest otherwise. They walked to the hospital, Ryou leading Mariku to Amane's room.

She lay in a hospital bed, a mess of wires and monitors, but Ryou noticed she wasn't on oxygen anymore. He hoped it meant she was feeling better, and not that she'd ripped the tubes out of her nose until the nurses gave up again.

Her eyes, verdant green despite the frail white body failing all around her, rolled up to see Ryou and Mariku enter the room.

"Holy shit they must have me on some good drugs, because I'm hallucinating."

Ryou smiled, happy even if for only a brief moment. "No Amane, it's really him."

She started at Mariku, narrowing her eyes. "This isn't my make a wish thing, is it? Because I was going to wish for three wishes. No matter how many times they tell me no, and then after all the fuss, I was going to use each wish on one cheesecake."

Mariku smirked. "Oh, I have a feeling that you and I are going to get along."

Ryou frowned. "Why not just wish for three cheesecakes?"

Mariku laughed. "Strike that. I  _know_  we're going to get along, and your brother will hate it."

Amane grinned. The cancer hadn't managed to stop that either, not her eyes and not her grin, but everything else ...

"Goddammit Ryou, you missed the point entirely." Her eyes flicked to Mariku. "He got it."

"I was at home," Mariku explained, "and some asshole I've never seen before shows up unannounced insisting he talk with me. I tried to scare him off, that works with everyone else, but he didn't give two shits, now here I am."

Amane rolled her clover-green eyes. "Bullshit."

Mariku smirked. "What?"

"You're not fooling me, and I doubt you're fooling my brother. Mariku Ishtar does not do charity."

Mariku crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged. "I was curious. I wanted to meet the sister he cared so much about."

"No. You want to fuck him."

Ryou blushed at her blunt words while Mariku's smirk widened.

Amane continued. "You want to fuck him, and you're hoping if you came here and patted his kid sister on her bald, little head, that he would spread his legs in gratitude to you."

"Well, is it going to work?"

"Pffft, no you fucking retard. He's damn near demisexual. You'd have to all but marry him to get him in bed."

"Amane, I'm standing right here."

"So what?"

"Shit, I walked three blocks for nothing, then." Mariku plopped into a chair besides Amane's bed, his legs spread gracelessly to either side of him. He grabbed Amane's sketch pad off of the bed.

"Bitch, don't you do it," Amane warned.

"Too late." He opened the notebook to look inside.

"Everything in there is shit," Amane murmured. "Chicken fuckers won't let me have any of my proper supplies in my room."

Ryou could have interjected, but he stayed still and watched because of the look on Mariku's face. His eyes studied each page, thoughtful, sometimes he muttered soundless comments to himself, and a soft smile teased his face. It didn't even look like Mariku, and the change fascinated Ryou.

"I can see my influence in your brush strokes, but you're not another cocksucker trying to imitate me. You get bold with your colors and make these your own pieces."

Amane returned Mariku's smile, and Ryou saw unique love on their faces, the love of a shared art.

"Your work is amazing," Amane said, "I never tire of staring at an Ishtar, but they're dark, too dark. I had to fix them. I couldn't stand the loneliness, so I started saving for paintbrushes and canvas. Something inside me, I don't know, wanted to balance the universe ... add light to it."

Ryou held his breath. He knew what Amane said wasn't just words, the fan-ecstatic prattle of a teenager. What she said was her soul, bared in all its beautiful, vulnerable glory, to someone she didn't see as a god, but as an equal in her craft.

And Mariku nodded. Simply nodded. Ryou wasn't sure what that meant, but Amane looked pleased. She looked at Ryou. "Hey, big brother?"

Ryou sighed through his nose. "You want something. You don't have to prime me for it. It's not like I can say no to you."

"Ice chips?"

"Of course."

"The machine is to the left."

Ryou noded and went to find the machine. He got lost, and had to circle around a different hall to find a nurse. He'd gone the wrong way somehow, left when he should have gone right, though he was sure Amane said left, but he was exhausted.

He knew something was wrong before he entered the room. There was a pre-quiet that he only picked up subconsciously. Ryou pushed into the room and gaped at the empty bed and disabled heart monitor. Panic blinded him. Ryou swallowed and dropped his cup of ice, pivoting on the linoleum and sprinting out of the hospital.

By the time he reached Mariku's place, Ryou felt as if he breathed in broken glass instead of air, and the stitch in his side wailed from running too long. His hands shook as he pressed for the elevator.

The ride felt slower. The rust looked more sinister on the cage bars, like old caked blood. When the door finally slide away, Mariku stood there, waiting to open the elevator gate.

Ryou punched him as soon as the door opened.

Mariku staggered backwards, and Ryou tackled him to the ground before Mariku had a chance to register what was happening.

He heard Amane screaming for him to stop, but Ryou couldn't stop. Every big-brother instinct in his head demanded he beat the shit out of Mariku.

Mariku grinned, lip bleeding. He kept whacking Ryou upside the head with his palm. Ryou knew he was holding back, hitting with an open hand instead of fists, but each strike jarred Ryou's head and made sparks fly in his vision. They grappled on the floor, elbows and knees finding random marks and hands tugging at hair.

At some point in the tangle Mariku slammed Ryou onto his back and pinned both hands over Ryou's head, lavender eyes flicking towards Amane.

Ryou followed his gaze and noticed his sister grinding her teeth, red faced and pissed off. Ryou shot his stare back to Mariku. "Explain."

"She wanted to bail, so we bailed."

"That wasn't  _your_ decision."

"No. It was  _hers_."

Ryou blinked twice and then pushed himself out from under Mariku's form. He walked over to his sister, still pink-cheeked, but calmer since the fighting stopped.

"You idiot," she chastised him. "I used to beat up the bullies who picked on you on the playground. What the fuck made you think you could start a fist fight?"

"Amane, this isn't high school. You can't ditch it like it's history class." He ignored her question and sat beside her on Mariku's daybed.

"Ryou." Amane held both his hands. "We both know ..." her sentence faded.

Her eyes begged him to let her go, but he wasn't willing to. Her smooth, paper-thin scalp and sallow cheeks made her eyes look too big for her face, and Ryou fought back tears.

Mariku pushed himself to his feet. He grabbed a pair of motorcycle keys from a nail near the elevator.

"Where the hell are you going?" Ryou demanded. It wasn't fair, to yell at the artist, Ryou only wanted the distraction. He wanted anything to pull him from the conversation Amane was trying to have.

"Hungry," Mariku grumbled as he disappeared into the elevator.

"No you're not!"

The slamming gate muted Ryou's words. They sat in silence for a moment before Amane frowned. "Ryou Bakura what has gotten into you? You're so polite to people that it makes me puke, do you hate him or something? It really was my fault that we left the hospital."

"I don't hate him," Ryou whispered. In fact, he found himself loving Mariku, in the way that one loved a hero - or perhaps villain - in a story because of their pure, bold actions and unbendable character.

Amane knew Ryou wouldn't allow her to leave the hospital. He followed rules. He always took the path of least social resistance. But people like Mariku, like Amane, couldn't live in society's box, couldn't be happy in it, and that hospital room was so much like a box.

Amane sat back, smirking. "I challenged him."

"To kidnap you?"

Amane snorted. "No, he did that for shits and giggles - and it was more of a rescue than a kidnapping. What I challenged him to was a sort of dark game."

"Monopoly?"

Amane laughed. Ryou hadn't heard that specific laugh in a while and it made his heart swell and hurt at the same time.

"It's a sort of macabre race. We're going to see who can paint the most pictures before I die, and they can't be shitty sketches, they have to be complete pieces."

Ryou smiled, wondering if this meant Amane would get her painting, the one that started Ryou's crazy day.

"He even said he could get paints and easels into my room without those bitch nurses complaining."

"Hmmm ... I fear his methods."

"Who cares. Honestly he could stab everyone who objects for all I care. As long as I can paint again."

Ryou happened to notice the window at that moment and gasped. The last of the sunlight slanted into the room, striking the painted window glass and turning the dim colors into a glowing masterpiece.

"It's beautiful."

"Why do you sound so surprised, Ryou? You should know if he's my favorite artist then he's amazing."

Ryou stood up, getting closer to the window. He heard the grinding and moaning of the elevator behind him, but ignored it as he admired the colored glass.

He heard Mariku's voice behind him. "I always thought there was something missing from that. I should nail your feet to the floor and make you part of the work."

Ryou turned around and noticed Mariku holding three boxes. "What's that?"

He grinned. "Three cheesecakes."

"I'm still wishing for three more!" Amane shouted as if offended by the desserts in Mariku's arms.

"Not my problem."

Ryou swallowed hard, feeling like an asshole as he watched Mariku opening up the boxes on the island counter and serving Amane a plate with three different types of cheesecake on it.

"This is going to make me sick and I don't even care." She grabbed the fork and plate with a greedy smile.

Mariku tossed a dismissive hand in Ryou's general direction. "You can get your own, asshole."

Ryou shrugged, unapologetic. His head still rang, so he felt proud of the little cut decorating Mariku's bottom lip. Ryou almost regretted that their fight ended so soon, or perhaps he regretted that he wasn't still pinned to the floor beneath Mariku's body weight. Ryou shook his head and distracted himself with cheesecake.

They sat on opposite sides of Amane. The other two talked about painting and painters, Ryou could only half follow their conversation. He frowned as he noticed that Amane couldn't finish more than a few bites of her favorite dessert. She kept looking at her plate like she wanted to eat more, but then frowned without taking another bite.

Mariku stabbed into her French Silk slice and stole a generous bite.

"Hey, jerkoff, I'm still eating that!" Amane shouted, though she looked happy.

"Well, you're too slow."

"I'm savoring it."

"Yeah?" He took piece of the turtle cheesecake and ate it even as Amane have him a weak smack.

While she argued with Mariku, Ryou stole a bite from the vanilla bean cheesecake, always loving the simpler desserts.

"Ryou Bakura, I am shocked." Amane's mouth hung open. "This asshole must have been a bad influence on you."

Mariku snorted. "Apparently, he keeps insisting he's nice, but I've yet to see evidence of this."

"Ryou's the sweetest person in the world. He's like a cuddly, white bunny."

Mariku cackled at Amane's words and Ryou swore.

"Goddammit, Amane."

"What?"

"See, Bunny? I call it like I see it."

Ryou felt his face burning. Not so much from the nickname itself, but rather because he had a good view of the copper bathtub from where he sat and couldn't seem to shake the calls of  _oh bunny_  from his head.

"What am I missing?" Amane asked.

"Nothing."

"Really Ryou? Nothing? Because he's grinning and you're blushing."

"The nickname pisses me off."

Amane grinned. "You know I saw the hickey as soon as you walked into my room, right?"

Ryou smacked the area that Mariku bit in the tub. He'd forgotten all about the damn thing. Mariku laughed, and the only reason Ryou didn't punch him again was because Amane sat between them.

"Personally," Amane continued, "I'm touched that you were willing to sacrifice your virginity just so I could meet my favorite artist."

"You know damn well I'm not a virgin."

"You might as well be. You're so damn picky."

Ryou rolled his eyes. It was a familiar argument between them. Amane had an odd obsession with trying to fix Ryou up with a boyfriend - he was rather sure it was so she felt like she wasn't leaving him alone when she died.

"I didn't sleep with  _him_  either."

"Sure. Uh-huh. Who would refuse Mariku Ishtar?"

"Your brother." Mariku stole another bite of cheesecake despite Amane trying to cockblock him with her fork.

"Yeah? How'd he get the hickey?"

"I bit him. He slapped me."

"Ryou, seriously, when did you become so violent?"

Ryou answered by taking another bite from Amane's vanilla bean cheesecake.

Amane grabbed her own bite, as if to defy the thieves surrounding her. Together they managed to clean Amane's plate, which seemed important somehow, that she didn't have to stare at the leftovers that she was too sick to eat.

Ryou wasn't sure when he fell asleep. One minute they were discussing watercolors by Amano - Ryou was able to join in on that conversation, he didn't know painters, but he knew Final Fantasy - and the next minute, his sister was shaking his shoulder.

"Ryou. Ryou, wake up."

"No." Ryou pushed the hand away. He was the type to wake up swinging, but had learned to temper himself with his sister because of late night trips to the ER.

And that thought made Ryou jump to his feet because he remembered where they were and why they shouldn't be there. "Amane?"

"Sorry." She offered him a queasy smile. "I thought I was hardcore, and could tell the system to fuck off ... but I feel like shit. I should probably go back to the hospital."

"We're leaving." Ryou rubbed his face, waking himself up.

"Cab is on its way," Mariku said.

Ryou glanced at him. "Thanks."

Mariku averted his eyes. He had the look of a teenager realizing actions had consequences for the first time. "Look, I'm-"

"No you're not. Not really," Ryou said. He didn't mean it harshly, though it sounded harsh coming from his mouth.

"Hey." Amane stood. She looked regal in her dying, a victim of the fairies more than disease. "I wanted out." She smiled and Ryou knew she hurt. "My last adventure, I guess."

She swayed. Ryou reached out to catch her, but it was Mariku who scooped her up and held her. He carried her to the elevator and Ryou followed him in silence.

"I'm okay," she said, but she didn't look it.

"Shut-up," Mariku muttered as they sank to the first floor in the rusty elevator.

Ryou expected Mariku to load Amane into the cab and send them on their way. He didn't know how to feel when he slipped into the seat with them, only releasing Amane in order to buckle her into the car.

"So here's the plan." Amane smiled. "We sneak me back inside, hook me back up to the rack, and pretend I never left. No one will be the wiser."

Ryou shook his head. He couldn't process the fathomable repercussions of taking a dying patient out of the hospital, perhaps they'd be charged with homicidal neglect, perhaps it didn't matter because Amane was legally an adult. It didn't matter. He just wanted her back.

No. He wanted her well, but that wouldn't happen so he wanted to selfishly cling to her as long as possible.

Every day it was  _just one more day_ , but then the next day came and he wanted that one as well. Even when she puked and only ate ice chips, even when her eyes bleared from the pain and Ryou knew he was being a selfish bastard for wanting her to go through all that for another day. He wanted it regardless. She was a three year old coloring on his bedroom walls with crayons. She was a twelve year old beating up bullies for calling Ryou a girl. She was a fifteen year old setting Ryou up with her friend because he'd wanted to go to senior prom without being made fun of for being gay. She was his sister. He remembered the day she was born. He did not want to see the day she would die.

The nurses rushed her back to her room. There was no official punishment, only lectures directed at Ryou for being irresponsible, for being a danger to her. He wanted to shove their papers and clipboards back into their faces and scream at them. They couldn't cure Amane. They could barely dull her pain with drugs, so why shouldn't she leave whenever she wished?

After an hour of being spoken to as if he were six, Ryou found himself sitting in a waiting room with CNN mumbling in the background on a television screen.

"Okay ..." Mariku muttered, and it wasn't until that moment that Ryou even realized Mariku was still there. "I'm an asshole. I should have known better, and I should-"

"Do it again, if she ever asks."

"What?"

Ryou glanced to the side, studying Mariku's profile. "Fuck it. They can't save her. No use holding her prisoner."

"Listen, Bunny, I ... get it - well, not really I don't. It would take nineteen years to really get it, but on some level I understand why you went through so much trouble just so she can have a stupid painting on her wall. She's a muse." A soft laugh escaped Mariku. "Damn, pretentious brat, trying to add light to a universe with a brushstroke."

"Mariku." Ryou's voice grated in his throat. "I can't take this. Oh my God, she's going to . . .."

Ryou did finish the sentence,  _couldn't finish it._  He curled against his lap and trembled with the weight of his last sentence.

He felt a hand petting his hair. "Bunny, why are you here alone? Where's your family?"

"Amane is my family. Mother died in a car crash when Amane was five. My father hid in his work. He's in Egypt right now. He says he'll come, but ... We know he won't. He doesn't want to see her die, so he'll hide in his job and pretend everything is fine."

Mariku snorted, bitter and wounded. "Dad in Egypt, say no more. I already hate the guy."

Ryou glanced his question at Mariku.

The artist shrugged. "I'm half Egyptian. My father came here for work, stayed for drugs."

"Your scars," Ryou whispered.

"He was high on heroine. Thought he was some chosen protector of an ancient pharaoh. Thought he was carving hieroglyphs into my back, but really he was just scribbling with his knife. CPS took me away for a few weeks, but they gave me back once he got out of rehab. He OD'd the week after that and died. "

"Oh my God. How old were you?"

"Ten. That's when I started painting. You can push everything else away when you're painting."

Ryou took Mariku's hand, needing the comfort more than giving it.

"I hate all things Egyptian," Mariku said.

"Me too. Fuck our dads, right?"

Mariku stood up, squeezing Ryou's hands before letting go. "I'm going home and painting."

Ryou nodded.

"Hey, Bunny?"

"Yeah?" Ryou answered, horrified at how the nickname was starting to sound sweet.

"My place is close, so if you need a nap, or a shower or something ..."

"I might take you up on that sometime."

Mariku looked surprised at Ryou's answer, then grinned. "Later, Bunny."


	3. Chapter 3

Ryou stayed in the waiting room until they allowed him to see his sister. She was half out of it from both fatigue and pain meds, but Ryou sat beside her as long as he could, rambling about things they did when they were little, playground adventures, pretending the living room floor was lava and climbing over the furniture to escape into the kitchen, blanket forts and ghost stories. He didn't think she really heard any of it, but Ryou never stopped filling the room with the sounds of his voice. It was better than the harsh sound of the heart monitor.

When he had to leave, Ryou walked down the street, dazed and not sure where he was going. It wasn't until he saw the old, water-stained brick building rising from the grime of the city streets that Ryou realized he was going to see Mariku. He wasn't even sure why. He didn't want company. He wanted to lay in the gutter and pass out, but his feet carried him to the elevator door and he climbed inside.

Ryou didn't push the up button right away. He stared at it, wondering why he was there. It felt like neither the elevator nor the up button were real. Perhaps because they weren't real, and because his own bed was a twenty minute cab ride away, Ryou jabbed the button and stood as the wobbling elevator rebelled against gravity and lifted him to the top floor.

Mariku pulled open the gate, grinning and stepping into the elevator. He pressed Ryou against the wall. Ryou stood still, too tired to resist whatever overly-dramatic scene in which Mariku was about to engage.

"Well hello, little Bunny. I'll admit I didn't expect to see you back so soon. Are you so eager to see me?" A pocket knife appeared. Mariku teased it along Ryou's collarbone. "Or are you just here to donate the blood you promised for my art?"

"Whatever." Ryou closed his eyes and sighed. The surprising shock of cool metal against his breastbone felt nicer than Ryou would have liked to admit. "You said I could borrow your shower."

"Is it going to as fun as my bath?"

"I haven't slept in over two days."

Mariku pouted, slipping the knife back into his pocket. "Well bleeding you won't be nearly as fun if you faint right away."

"You're covered in white paint," Ryou said.

Mariku stared down at his bare chest and abs dappled in specks of white. "It washes off eventually."

Ryou reached out, rubbing one of the splotches with his pointer finger. It didn't come off, but Mariku's body felt warm and pleasant beneath Ryou's fingertip. "Do you have any clean towels?"

"Uh . . ." Mariku turned away.

Ryou frowned at the removal of warmth from his touch, but didn't complain as Mariku searched a drawer near the copper tub.

"Yes. One. Your lucky day, Bunny."

"Do you have a washer and dryer?"

"Two floors down."

"Where's your hamper?"

"Oh no, no, no. You're not going to be one those girlfriends that comes over and cleans things up and gets me to stop drinking."

"You should stop drinking, you know, and I'm not using your last clean towel."

Mariku growled. "Take your damn shower. I'll do my own damn laundry."

Ryou smiled, walking up to Mariku and taking the towel from his hand. Ryou noticed the little cut on Mariku's bottom lip from the night before and touched it. Mariku winced, but didn't pull away. A strange idea floated through Ryou's sleep-deprived mind. That he'd like to taste the cut he'd made, so he leaned forward and licked it. It was more of a kiss than anything, his lips brushing against Mariku's bottom lip and his tongue dabbing along the little slash of red.

Mariku gave him an evil grin, his voice a guttural whisper. "You sick fuck."

"Tell me to stop."

Mariku dug his fingers into Ryou's shoulders. "Like hell I will." He bent down and started kissing Ryou's swan-like neck.

Ryou closed his eyes, allowing his mind to float slightly away from his body. "No hickies."

"That's no fun."

"I'll slap you again."

"You better not, Bunny. Slap me again I  _will_  fuck you raw."

"Does pain turn you on that much?"

"Yes." The word was a hiss from his mouth, as if he were tempting Ryou to eat a pomegranate off of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil.

Mariku nipped at Ryou's skin, causing the other male to gasp and lean his head back so that Mariku had more access. "Weren't you going to do laundry?"

"You distracted me."

"I feel too greasy for this."

"You  _started_  it."

Ryou pulled away. "I'm not thinking straight."

"Lame excuse." Mariku huffed, but grabbed a wicker hamper and carried it off to the elevator.

Ryou watched him go, frustrated that it'd been so easy to push the manic artist away. Mariku seemed the type to push, to take what he wanted and not stop until the third or fourth 'no'. That wasn't the case, however; more and more, Ryou realized that Mariku's tough act was another form of art, dark plum enamel covering a suit of armor to make it mysterious, but not any more effective.

A shower curtain hung suspended from a round bar over the copper tub, so Ryou was able to take a shower instead of a bath. He kept expecting Mariku to appear, to try and sneak his way into the shower and continue where he left off, but he never returned. Ryou gave up, washed his hair, and used Mairku's last clean towel to dry his body. He wandered over to the daybed, sitting on the comforter and tucking his head down in order to dry the back of his long, white hair.

Ryou considered using the elevator and searching for his missing host, but he couldn't bear the thought of standing back up, so Ryou lay down and closed his eyes. He didn't feel like he slept; he felt like he floated. After a time, he felt lips on his neck again. Ryou thought it was a dream and he reached out, clutching to the warmth surrounding him. Then he heard a husky, low voice telling him to wake up, and Ryou grew angry, hating to be woken.

"Go away," Ryou mumbled. "My head hurts."

"Sorry, Bunny, but it's time to wake up."

"No." Ryou lashed out with a weak fist, blindly striking what felt like a well-formed shoulder.

Ryou felt his hands go over his head. It woke him, somewhat, enough to make his eyes blink open. When the bleariness of sleep faded, he saw Mariku's face looming over his own. The artist looked sinister, deranged, like he wanted nothing more than to tie Ryou to a set of rail-road tracks and watch him explode into a splash of red paint when a train hit him, or maybe Ryou was still half asleep.

"Now Bunny, what did I tell you about smacking."

"No, that was slapping."

"Close enough."

"Who said you could kiss me when I'm sleeping?"

"You're in my bed, naked I might add."

"Still didn't say you could wake me like that."

"Oh fuck that."

Ryou shrugged. "If you don't want to get fisted, you should set an alarm to wake me up."

Mariku licked his lips. "Never said I didn't want to get fisted. You just need to stop hitting me if you don't want hickies."

Ryou blinked, then realized what he'd said and blushed. "I meant - oh you know what I meant. I don't wake up well. Don't even shake me. I'll smack you and go right back to sleep."

"Well, it's almost 4:45 now. I've been trying to wake you up for twenty minutes already."

Ryou sat up. "How is it so late?"

"You passed the fuck out."

Ryou rubbed his face, trying to fully wake himself.

"You need to visit your sister, right?"

"Oh shit." Ryou pushed himself to his feet, wobbling a little since he was still too tired to move. "I slept the whole damn day and I feel like I haven't slept at all. I think I feel worse than before."

"I bought you a toothbrush."

Ryou stopped and stared at Mariku. "A toothbrush?"

"Well, I figured you'd need one, so I got you that and some deodorant. I did your laundry with mine, so your clothes are cleaned." Mariku rolled his eyes. "Dammit, I told you not to be that kind of girlfriend. Haven't even slept with you yet and you already have your own toothbrush."

Ryou stumbled back to the bed, sitting down. He couldn't catch his breath. "Th-thank-you. You didn't have to."

"Tell that brat she better be painting."

"She doesn't have enough paint, or her good brushes, or her easel in her room."

Mariku grinned. "She should have them by now. I called my agent. Told him I'd have new work for him if he did me a few favors - that was one of the favors."

Ryou narrowed his gaze. "Why are you doing all this?"

Mariku shook his head, looking over to three easels he had set up, all covered in various colors - blacks and reds mostly, although one was only white. "I got bored with my own work. Couldn't paint. Started drinking. Can't paint for shit when I'm drunk, so the more I drank the more I couldn't paint, and the more I couldn't paint the more I wanted to drink. Then some punk kid comes along and challenges me to a race." Mariku shrugged. "Forgot how much I missed painting until last night when I came home."

Ryou started smiling.

Mariku scowled. "What? Fuck you, Bunny. Don't give me that look."

Ryou dressed and used the toiletries that Mariku had purchased for him, walking towards the elevator. "You know." He glanced behind him. "You're really cute."

"Oh fuck off."

"I dare say you're adorable."

"Get out of here right now before I shove your face against the floor and wear out your ass."

Ryou only laughed, stepping into the elevator.

"Hey, Ryou!"

Ryou paused, mouth hanging open at the use of his name. "Y-yeah?"

"Are you coming back?"

Ryou smiled again, staring at Mariku through the rusted cage door. "I'd have to bring an overnight bag so I could get ready for work in the morning."

Mariku crossed his arms over his chest. "Goddamit, first the toothbrush and now an entire bag?"

"Take a shower while I'm gone. Be thorough."

"Christ, now you're my mother making sure I wash behind my ears."

"It'll be worth the effort." Ryou pressed the button to descend.

He jogged to the hospital, already running late. Ryou feared that he'd spend another evening talking to a half-comatose Amane again, but as he stepped into her room she turned and smiled at him. She sat at a chair, paintbrush in hand.

"Ryou, look!"

He grinned. "I see. You better hurry, Mariku has three already started."

Amane snorted. "He's flighty. I'll have four finished before he gets those three done." She glanced back to Ryou. "What were you doing over there anyway?"

"I took a nap because it was closer to the hospital."

"Oh. A nap. I see."

"Yes, a nap."

"This isn't a Bronte novel, Ryou. Quit being so virtuous and have some fun before you die."

"Don't say it like that, Amane."

She shrugged. "Sorry. Figure of speech. But my point is still valid."

"So what are you painting?"

"A picture."

"Explain it to me."

"Well, this squiggles are some colors, and then these other squiggles are more colors, and in the end it represents my love for unicorns."

Ryou gave up, sitting on Amane's bed. "How is it that I've surrounded myself with facetious painters?"

"We're obviously your favorite people."

"So, you're feeling better now?"

"As long as I'm painting, I feel like I have a right to exist."

Ryou pursed his lips. Amane's words reminded him of Mariku, drinking himself into a self-created hell because he lost the will to paint. "Yup, you both are crazy."

"You know," Amane whispered into her canvas. "You don't have to visit me  _every day_."

"The hell I don't."

"If you wanted a date night or something, I'm just saying, you can have a night off, Ryou."

"We're not having this conversation."

"Yes we are." Amane set down her brush. "One day this is going to be over, and you'll have to be alive, and you need to have a life to go back to when that happens."

"We're not having this conversation."

"Dammit, Ryou, stop dodging."

"I don't want to talk about this."

The green of her eyes flared up, a mix of anger and grief. "You  _have_  to. I can't sleep at night because I'm worried about you."

"Me? Amane, nothing is wrong with  _me_."

"You've lost almost as much weight as I have."

"You're exaggerating."

"What did you eat today?"

"I . . ." he stopped. "We had all that cheesecake last night."

"That was last night. What did you eat today?"

"I slept today."

"Yeah, because you've been staying up all night, drinking coffee and not eating. Stop it."

"Okay. I'll make sure I eat. Just . . . don't worry."

Amane stared at her lap. "Please, Ryou, please . . . do something, okay? Anything. Go to a movie, or play one of your stupid games, just spend a few hours thinking about anything but me, okay?"

"That's not fair, Amane."

She ground her teeth. "Don't tell  _me_  what's not fair."

Ryou frowned, worried about how he was upsetting her. His mind struggled for something to tell her that would calm her down. "I don't need a date night, I - I had Italian with Mariku last night. So, see? I'm eating, and doing things. Stop worrying."

Amane gave him a suspicious look.

Ryou squirmed under her gaze. "And maybe I'm going back to his place tonight?"

With that she perked up. "Really?"

"Probably."

"You better."

Ryou sighed. "Amane, even if I get . . . attached to Mariku, this isn't a game. I can't just trade out one painter for another. When you - when it's time - it's going to hurt and you can't save me from that anymore than I can save you."

Amane picked up her paintbrush, staring at the canvas in order to avoid her brother. "At least there will be someone here to keep you from crawling into a hole. You know dad won't be here. Maybe for the funeral, but then he'll leave again."

Ryou started to chuckle. He wasn't amused, but he had a comic strip image in his head of himself crawling into a hole and Mariku crawling in behind him with a bottle of vodka and it made Ryou laugh.

"What the hell is so funny?"

"Nothing."

"You better tell me."

"I just . . . how's Mariku going to keep me from crawling into a hole when he's hiding in his own?"

"Fine, dammit, at least there will be someone to share a hole with."

After that their conversations fell into more casual topics. Amane even talked Ryou into slipping down to the cafeteria to split and order of french fries with her. She only ate three, but at least it  _felt_  like they were sharing food like they had during so many movie marathon weekends before she got sick.

Ryou didn't look forward to the subway ride back to his house, or the ride that would take him back to Mariku's place. It seemed a waste of an hour when Mariku lived so close to the hospital, but he needed clothes, and he figured it wouldn't hurt to bring his own shampoo and conditioner instead of mooching off of Mariku's toiletries.

At the last second, Ryou stashed a bottle of Gun Oil and a three-pack of condoms into a side pocket in his bag. He didn't intend to use them, but he figured he better have them. Ryou bit his bottom lip in thought as he traveled back to the other end of town. The mere fact that he'd  _packed_  condoms proved that he was more attached to Mariku that he'd like to admit. It was hard not to be - the cheesecake, washing Ryou's clothes, getting a toothbrush, and more than anything fixing it so Amane could have paints in her room - it was hard not to be attracted to Mariku. And he was gorgeous, that helped, but Ryou was more impressed by the fact that he had bought him a toothbrush.

Mariku's apartment smelt of jasmine again from the tub. Ryou felt his cheeks warm as the scent brought back memories. Mariku himself sat on a stool next to the island countertop. He wore paint-stained sweatpants and a towel wrapped around his shoulders.

He lifted up a plate and set it back down. "Want a sandwich? I bought groceries."

Ryou strolled over to the kitchen area. "Funny, you don't seem the type to ever buy groceries."

"That's the fucking problem with not drinking. It makes me hungry."

Ryou peeked over Mariku's shoulder. "What kind is it?"

"Turkey, baby swiss, chipotle mayo, rye-"

"You had me at rye."

"I told you, Bunny, serendipity. We're at the mercy of fate, destined to love the same sandwiches."

"I'm beginning to believe you, and I'm raiding your fridge."

Ryou pulled out the things he needed. He grinned with approval when Mariku's knife sliced right through the half-cut tomato. He wasn't used to single men having decent kitchen knifes; it was a nice change.

"I see the gleam in your eye, you sick fuck. You like the knife."

"It's sharp. I hate smashing into a tomato when I'm trying to slice it."

"A knife has to be sharp if one is to gut a little bunny and hang him from the ceiling."

Ryou flicked his eyes up at Mariku and then finished making his sandwich. "Bullshit. You wouldn't hurt me. You like me."

Mariku snorted. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm still trying to get into your pants, that's all."

"I don't think so, I'm starting to figure you out, Mariku Ishtar." Ryou replaced the bread, meat, cheese, and vegetables into the fridge. "I have no doubt that all your violent stories are true, but you wouldn't hurt me."

Mariku frowned at his half-eaten sandwich. "Don't count on that. I already told you, I'm not stable. Three weeks from now I might be throwing a vodka bottle at your head."

Ryou bit into his own sandwich, sighing because it was perfect. "Maybe. Life's shitty that way."

"You are quite the jaded little Bunny."

"Amane is convinced that she will have four paintings completed before you finished your three."

"Probably, but I'll have two more started by then."

"Yes, but do unfinished works count?"

"No."

"Then you're going to lose unless you focus."

"We'll see."

"Is there any cheesecake left?"

"Yeah, way too damn much."

Ryou shoved the last bite into his mouth. "You did not just say 'too much' in relation to cheesecake."

Mariku smiled. "Yeah, I did. What are you going to do about it, Bunny?"

"Make you eat a slice with me." Ryou went to the fridge, getting a piece of vanilla bean for himself and a slice of turtle for Mariku.

He noticed Ryou's choices. "You keep eating the plan one. What is wrong with you? It's boring."

"No, not boring, pure. One flavor that I really like. Why should I add things when vanilla is already perfect?"

Mariku grabbed Ryou's hand, licking the tip of his finger. "Hmmm . . . maybe you have a point, Bunny, creamy, white, sweet, and perfect." He licked the underside of Ryou's wrist. "You really don't need any garnish."

"Y-you're making me blush. Quit."

"But I like when you blush. You look so fragile."

Ryou breathed through his mouth, eyelashes fluttering. Mariku leaned closer, and Ryou jumped to his feet. "I should wash these plates." He fumbled to get the plates cleared and washed, and then brushed his teeth - which is what he'd really wanted to do after eating a sandwich with chipotle mayo.

Mariku still sat at the island revelling in a sexually frustrated pout. Ryou sat on the daybed and patted the area beside him. Mariku watched Ryou for a moment before standing up. He, too, brushed his teeth before sitting next to Ryou.

Ryou licked his lips, as self-conscious about the taste of toothpaste as he'd been about the taste of spicy mayo. "I haven't forgotten."

Mariku raised an eyebrow, his face predatory. "Forgotten what, Bunny?"

"That I still owe you a blow job."

A dark chuckle shook Mariku's shoulders. "Oh that. It's hardly crossed my mind." He pushed Ryou against the mattress, hovering over him. "But as instructed I did take a very  _thorough_  shower."

Ryou admired Mariku's lavender eyes. They made him look more divine that mortal, a golden-haired aasimar. "Below the collar," Ryou whispered.

"What?"

"Suck below the collar. I don't want any marks showing when I go to work tomorrow."

Mariku's eyes clouded suspiciously as he stared at Ryou. "You're . . . and you're not going to smack me once I get started?'

Ryou narrowed his eyes. It was hard enough to open himself so much to a person, and he didn't like being questioned about it. "Please stop if I ask you to stop, but otherwise consider this your green light." Ryou jerked a little once he realized how the statement could be interpreted. "I mean your green light for kissing."

Mariku snorted, ripping Ryou's shirt over his head and going straight for his peony-colored nipple. Ryou gasped, staring at the high ceiling as Mariku sucked and flicked his tongue. He arched against Mariku's mouth, heart already thumping steady and quick in his chest as Mariku started to bite and suck around the areola.

Ryou clawed at the bedspread below him, but it wasn't enough. His fingers found Mariku's hair and he tugged at the angelic strands, but the pain from his hair-pulling only spurred Mariku to bite more fiercely. Ryou jerked each time teeth broke his skin, but then moaned at the sweet sucking that followed, pulling Mariku's hair again to make him repeat the process.

Mariku wandered down to Ryou's stomach, licking more than biting, and Ryou found himself bucking up, as if to beg attention towards his groin. Mariku pushed his hand between Ryou's legs, encouraging the growing erection pressing against the fabric. Ryou threw his head back, bumping it against the sideboard.

"Ow, fuck!" Ryou rubbed the crown of his head.

"You okay, Bunny?" Mariku laughed, but he stopped his ministrations long enough to check Ryou's head.

"There's not enough room. Help me pull the mattress to the floor."

Mariku gave Ryou a funny look, but humored him. After the mattress landed with a graceless thump against the floor, Ryou pushed Mariku down, crashing on top of him and fluttering kisses along Mariku's neck.

Mariku sighed, combing Ryou's hair with his dark fingers. Ryou struggled to slip his hands down Mariku's sweatpants, toying with Mariku's erection.

"Mmmmm, Bunny."

"Mariku," Ryou whispered as he shifted lower. His kisses circled around Mariku's navel and he clawed at the band of Mariku's sweatpants, pulling the material away from Mariku's legs. Again, he noticed how Mariku never bothered with boxers or briefs, and Ryou giggled, feeling guilty at how happy he was at the moment. It didn't seem right, to be happy with his sister in the hospital.

Ryou started at the thigh, golden brown and smooth with a thick layer of muscle beneath. He alternated between gentle kissing and rough biting, listening to the different sounds Mariku made with each movement. He ran his tongue in circles around Mariku's sack.

"Bunny," Mariku near sang as Ryou's tongue worked.

"You shaved."

"Y-yeah," there was almost a question to his response, as if asking Ryou if he minded the fact.

"I like it, some guys don't bother."

"Well, now you're with quality." Mariku teased, but his laughter turned to a long moan when Ryou began sucking on his sack. "Bunny, don't stop that."

Ryou obliged, taking his time, occasionally biting Mariku's thighs and then going back to his nuts. When everything was slick, Ryou decided to move down, circling his tongue along the rim of Mariku's anus.

"Oh Bunny. Bunny, Bunny, Bunny, Ryou, yes, more."

Ryou took  _more_  to mean a broad, slow lick, and he was rewarded by a delighted squeal escaping from Mariku's mouth. Ryou gave Mariku three more licks before jabbing his tongue as deep as he could fit into Mariku's entrance. Mariku's thighs quivered as he continued to cry out. Once saturated, Ryou slipped a finger inside and only then did he start the actual blow job. With one finger still pressed knuckle deep inside Mariku's body, Ryou used his other hand to hold the base of Mariku's cock steady so he could bob his head up and down.

Mariku hardly registered the first finger, but when Ryou added a second Mariku lifted up his head, eyes clouded with lust and pleasure. "R-ryou, what are you . . ."

Ryou pulled back enough to speak, staring at Mariku with acid-green eyes. "You said you weren't opposed to fisting."

Mariku laid his head back. "Oh shit."

"Unless you don't want to," Ryou said, unsure of himself. "I could-"

"Do it," Mariku cut Ryou off. "Do it." He started shifting his hips, pressing against Ryou's two fingers and muttering with a graveled voice. "Do it."

"Want lube?"

"I . . . don't have any," Mariku said, almost as an apology.

Ryou smiled. "I do."

Mariku feigned a shocked gasp. "Wicked, shameful Bunny."

The bag was already near the bed. Ryou pulled it closer and found the little blue and orange bottle. He coated his fingers, going straight for three since his hand was now slippery. Mariku gasped, mouth wide open, eyes half open. Ryou sealed his lips around Mariku's shaft, waiting until Mariku's cries grew loud and wanton before adding the last finger.

Mariku swelled thick, thick, head plump and seeping, shaft full and twitching. Ryou timed his breaths in careful rhythm to his head bobs, allowing Mariku's tip to rub against the back of his throat. Mariku released a jumbled, wailing sound, and Ryou took it as his cue to back off slightly so he didn't choke when Mariku came. The first burst was warm, always warmer than Ryou remembered, although it'd been a few years since he'd even gone this far with someone so his memory was fuzzy.

Ryou swallowed twice, looking up afterwards to admire his handiwork. Mariku's face glowed a healthy wine-hue, his hair sprayed out against the pillow behind him, and his eyes looked dream-lost. Ryou smiled. The sight of Mariku made his own erection ache. Ryou found himself kissing up Mariku's belly and to his chest, still wired with desire and unresolved tension.

"Ryou . . ."

"Hmmmm?"

"I've never . . . that was better than . . ." Mariku gasped and shuddered as if reliving his climax all over again. "Holy shit." He looked up at Ryou again. "Do you want to finish? You can, if you want. You can . . . you can do anything you want, anything, Bunny."

Ryou blushed when he understood what Mariku was offering. Not simply sex, but the opportunity for Ryou to take it all for himself, an unselfish offer of flesh in which Mariku wouldn't directly benefit, having already came, pleasure for the sole sake of Ryou's own experience. He shook his head. "I-I can't. It's too soon."

"Oh." Mariku's eyes looked rueful at the answer and Ryou felt guilty for it.

He even wanted to do it, or at least he  _wanted_  to want to, but he wasn't ready. Mariku pulled Ryou down until their faces hovered close. "Come here," Mariku whispered, kissing Ryou on the mouth, sucking his own taste off of Ryou's tongue.

Mariku slid his hand down Ryou's stomach, finding his length and teasing it with thick fingers. Ryou used his lube-slick hand to coat his erection with a thin sheen of lubrication before Mariku grabbed him again. Ryou rocked into Mariku's fist, pretending that he was inside Mariku. Although it was his own choice not to be, the fantasy still drove Ryou on, making him thrust faster and bringing him to a quick, hard, delirious climax. He crashed on top of Mariku's chest, sputtering for a breath he couldn't catch.

Mariku wrapped his arms and legs around Ryou's body, growling in a possessive tone. " _My Bunny_."

"Not your bunny." Ryou smiled, eyes closed, breath finally filling his lungs.

"Yes you are. You're my White Rabbit."

"Because you'll chase me down the rabbit hole when I utterly lose my shit?" Ryou asked, thinking of his and Amane's earlier conversation.

Mariku snorted, refusing to let go. "More like I'll meet you there."

Ryou nodded, eyes fluttering open enough to catch a glimpse of the bronzed chest he used as a pillow. "At least neither one of us will have to be alone, then. We can paint the roses red together."

"I do love to paint."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow all the smut got condensed into this chapter, so disclaimer - lemons and stuff.

The week settled into a routine. Work, then straight to the hospital, then he'd swing by Mariku's place for a late dinner. He spent every other night with Mariku, fearing that things already moved too fast, fearing that he already cared far too much. On the nights he went home, Mariku insisted on giving Ryou a ride on his motorbike, and again Ryou feared that he already cared far too much.

That weekend, Mariku went with Ryou to visit Amane. They taunted each other, compared works, praised and criticized in equal measures, and boasted how much better their work would be the next weekend.

And, watching them together like old friends, Ryou feared that he already cared far too much. But he couldn't stop himself.

Mariku started working on a larger piece. He never allowed Ryou a peek, covered it with a drape when Ryou came to visit, and if Ryou asked about it, Mariku would only kiss him in reply.

The second week went on much as the first, and then the third, and then a month, and that was when Ryou realized that it had become his new normal. Hospital trips, and worry, and tears when Amane had bad days, and copper arms surrounding him, and the smell of paint reminding him of everyone he loved.

Then one of Amane's bad days dragged on to two, then three, then a bad week. Ryou called in to work, stayed in the lobby when he wasn't allowed in Amane's room, and refused to leave the hospital because he knew,  _knew_  the second he did she would die and he'd never forgive himself for letting her die alone.

On the seventh night, Ryou sat curled in a lobby chair with a hoodie wrapped around his front. He stared with sleepless eyes at a fake plant, angry that no one had dusted it, thirsty from too many tears, and too tired to stumble to the drinking fountain.

A shadow slipped over Ryou. He shifted his eyes and saw Mariku staring at him. Ryou's gaze sank back to the dusty, silk leaves. "No. Whatever you're about to say the answer is no."

"Fine." Mariku left.

Ryou hid his face behind his hoodie, sobbing again, thinking the least Mariku could have done was argue a little. He didn't have to leave like it was so easy to do. He could have at least pretended he wanted to stay, despite Ryou telling him to go away.

Five minutes passed and Ryou realized the shadow was back. He peeked from behind his hoodie, seeing Mariku with two paper cups filled with coffee. He offered Ryou one of the two cups. "Double sugar, double cream."

Ryou reached out for it, holding it instead of drinking it. "Have I become that girlfriend already?"

Mariku gave him a tired half-smile, sitting beside him. "Fucking hell, you have three of my drawers at this point and I keep almond milk in the fridge."

"Well shit." Ryou drank a sip from his cup. "You were only supposed to be a distraction, but you double so nicely as a hotel room."

"Told you that first day - a mutually satisfying relationship, Bunny."

Ryou sighed, horrified at the way the nickname made him feel better. When did that happen? Somewhere between slices of cheesecake and blowjobs, but Ryou wasn't sure exactly when the change became so real.

"How is she?"

"Bad." Ryou held his breath, took a drink, exhaled only when he had to. "So bad."

"Ryou, come home."

Ryou flinched, at the use of his name, at the use of the term  _home_ , at the tone in Mariku's voice. "I can't. I . . . can't. I have to stay here."

"We'll come back for morning visitation. I'll come with you, but you need to shower, and you need to sleep in a bed, and you need to eat something not from a cafeteria."

"Mariku, I can't. If she . . . If she, if - oh god if something happens and I'm not here-"

Mariku grabbed Ryou's chin, forcing Ryou to look into Mariku's lavender eyes. "You know if she saw you right now she would be screaming pissed."

"I know."

"Then come home."

"Home?" Ryou tried to laugh, but it was more sob than myrth.

"Yes  _home_  with me."

Ryou gasped, borderline hyperventilating. "I have to stay - I have to be here when - when it happens. I have to - I have to."

"Ryou, no. You have to sleep. Real sleep, not just naps."

"She's going to die!" Ryou screamed; it was the first time he brought himself to say it out loud. He dropped the coffee, buried his face in Mariku's chest, and wailed. "I can't leave her. Please, let me stay a little longer."

Mariku crushed Ryou in his arms, rocking them. "Then I'm staying too."

Ryou couldn't feel one way or the other about the statement. A gaping, numb grief swallowed his chest and rendered all other emotions beyond his reach, but Ryou nodded and then allowed himself to cry. He'd had personal breakdowns, but this was the first time he allowed someone else to fully see his sorrow.

Mariku kissed the crown of Ryou's head. "Shhh, Bunny, shhh, I'm right here, okay? You're not doing this by yourself, you got me?"

Mariku stayed, and on the ninth day Amane woke up like a princess kissed by Prince Charming. She laughed, and teased them for looking like shit, and painted as if possessed by a leannán sí - a fay-muse that grated inspiration at the cost of the artist's life. The doctors told Ryou not to hope, that it was a temporary reprieve, but Ryou didn't give a damn. It was a reprieve, temporary or otherwise, and Ryou was grateful for it.

After their visit, Mariku took Ryou's hand. "Can we please go take a fucking shower now?"

Ryou nodded, unable to speak, too many thoughts swirled around his head and it was easier to let Mariku drag him outside and drive him back to Mariku's place on the back of a black Ducati. In the studio, Mariku pulled off Ryou's clothing like he didn't trust Ryou to do it himself. Ryou half-expected Mariku to try and fool around, it'd been over a week since they'd touched each other, but all the artist did was run a hot bath and pull Ryou into the jasmine-scented bubbles.

Ryou sat, dull and listless, in between Mariku's legs as Mariku washed their hair.

"You need sleep," Mariku said, combing Ryou's just-rinsed locks with his fingers. "People are going to think I'm a vampire feeding off of you if the circles under your eyes get any bigger."

"Wouldn't that be good for your art?"

"Yes, but Amane would chunk a paintbrush at my head."

After the bath Mariku dried them both with towels, and Ryou passively accepted the treatment, too tired to stop it, protest, or even register that it was happening in real life and not a dream. Mariku didn't bother with clothes. He dragged them both to his daybed and wrapped them beneath the covers, petting Ryou's hair all the while.

"What's this for?" Ryou asked, his voice a breeze weaving through the air, soft, almost nonexistent.

"I'm trying to get you to sleep."

"Why?"

Mariku looked at Ryou. "Because you're exhausted, Bunny."

"But why? Why? You can't ... care. I liked it better when you threatened to gut me."

"Can't I care?"

Ryou shook his head no.

"Fuck you, Ryou."

Ryou hid in Mariku's chest, sobbing. He wasn't sure why. It wasn't exactly because of Amane, although everything tied back to the inevitable truth of her death.

"Goddammit, Bunny, stop crying." Mariku squeezed Ryou hard into his arms, breathing into Ryou's hair.

He lay there, holding Ryou until they both fell asleep crunched together in a bed that was a little too small for two grown men, but they'd been making it work for weeks.

Ryou woke up in Mariku's arms in the middle of the night. He felt stuffy from their shared body heat. He also felt hyper-aroused, as if a good hard sleep was all he needed to awaken his sense of lust. It didn't help that Mariku held him as if he were afraid Ryou may disappear - that made Ryou want Mariku even more. It also didn't help that the sleeping Mariku's erection rubbed against the inside of Ryou's thigh.

Ryou tried to shift, but Mariku latched on more tightly, grinding against Ryou out of reflex.

Ryou swallowed. "Mariku?"

His bed-mate gave a grunt, pressed a little harder into Ryou's thigh, but otherwise stayed asleep. Ryou felt himself growing stiff, his breathing deepened. His lips almost touched Mariku's chest because of how close they lay, and Ryou succumbed to the urge to kiss the muscle beneath Mariku's cumin-colored skin.

"Mariku," Ryou whispered into his kisses, shifting his body weight so that Mariku's hard-on continued to brush up and down Ryou's sweat-slick thigh.

"Mmmmm ..." Mariku moaned at the sensual contact, pressing up on reflex once more and, whether by luck or fate, managing to slip higher up Ryou's thigh and close to Ryou's entrance.

Ryou gnashed his teeth against his bottom lip and groaned as the light, teasing contact made his budding desire fully bloom.

Mariku's eyes fluttered open. "Bunny?"

Ryou circled his hips to taunt Mariku awake. His voice was dry and husky. "You can, if you want. You can."

Mariku slid his hands down to Ryou's waist, and pulled them closer together. He stifled a wanting grunt, but then paused, giving Ryou a suspicious look. "Is this what you really want? Or is this a manifestation of your earlier breakdown?"

Ryou froze at the question, hurt by it. "I can't sleep," he said in a dull voice. "I thought this would make you happy."

Mariku sat up, pulling Ryou into his lap. "I don't want to be happy. I want you to be okay."

Ryou turned his head. "That has nothing to do with ... this."

Mariku grabbed Ryou's face and pulled it back so their eyes met. Ryou winced. Mariku's hold hurt, but Ryou couldn't move.

"You're not the only one damaged inside." His words were closer to a beast's growling than a human's speech. "You're not the only one afraid to let someone in." He stopped, staring at Ryou and breathing hard. His next words were whispered. "I could have that first day, fucked you and then just shrugged you off like a hangover if you had pushed me away afterward, but now ..."

What Ryou saw in Mariku's eyes frightened him - sincerity - such clear, pure sincerity that it seemed to well up and spill down Mariku's cheeks, but Ryou knew better. It wasn't an abstract emotion that leaked down Marik's face, only tears. Regular, saltwater tears, the same kind that Ryou cried.

His grip still hurt Ryou's face. His words shuddered from his mouth. "If you hurt me, I will destroy you. I will burn this place down to the ground with you in it."

"Hey," Ryou reached out, holding Mariku's face in return only more gently.

"I'm sorry your sister is going to die, but I can't be a distraction anymore, and don't you ever, fucking  _ever,_ accuse me of not caring again like earlier."

Ryou shook. The acid in his stomach burned, and his own tears trickled over Mariku's fingers. "I'm ... going to break when it happens. I'm going to shatter and crumble to the floor, and I can't stop that, but-" Ryou sniffed, trying to rein in the grief pouring down his face, "- if you want to be there ... if you want me even broken ... I won't push you away. You can lay on the ground and be broken with me."

"I'm used to being broken on the ground," Mariku whispered, his grip on Ryou's face became soft. "That's where you found me."

Ryou leaned forward, lips tickling across Mariku's lips. They both tasted of saltwater and heat. Mariku closed his eyes and opened his mouth. Their tongues pressed shy and insecure into one another's mouths.

Their fingers slipped down each other's cheeks, resting on naked shoulders or bare thighs. Ryou lifted his hips and eased them back into Mariku's lap, allowing the soft movement to recapture the arousal they both lost during their emotional outpour.

"Mariku ... I want you."

"Bunny, you have me."

A lump knotted in Ryou's throat. He swallowed, but it didn't go away until Mariku kissed along Ryou's neck.

Ryou sighed and leaned back. "Lay me down and get the lube."

Mariku obeyed, kissing Ryou's groin as he prepped him. They almost always used their fingers when they pleased each other, so the touch was familiar and made Ryou's insides feel warm with delight.

Mariku pulled his hand away and sheathed himself into Ryou's body. Ryou held his breath, drawing up his knees and holding one in each hand to keep himself spread for Mariku. The artist drew out each thrust, letting Ryou feel the entirety of his length for each push and each pull.

Mariku closed his eyes, mouth ajar as he moved. Ryou watched the expression on Mariku's face. It made little paper wings flutter from this navel down to his balls.

"Bunny," Mariku exhaled, kissing Ryou's temples as he kept a languid pace.

Ryou let go of one knee to brush his hand along Mariku's chest. They kept their bodies close, kept reinforcing each other with light kisses or delicate swivels of their fingertips. After a time, the yearning sensation that stabbed through Ryou's center became too much. His hand trailed down his stomach until his fingers reached his erection.

Ryou grabbed himself, stroking fast as Mariku maneuvered slow. Mariku kissed the corner of Ryou's mouth, smiling. "That's right, Bunny, cum for me."

Ryou let out a little squeak, hand steady and desire climbing.

Mariku changed his rhythm, thrust-thrust-slam, thrust-thrust-slam, and the consistent, stressed slams combined with Ryou's own quick tempo gave him a blinding orgasm that started at the base of his cock and spread up and out along his belly.

Mariku quickened his own pace before Ryou finished. He grabbed the backs of Ryou's thighs and pushed his hips slightly off of the mattress. A high pitched vowel sang from Mariku's throat as he came.

Ryou eased his hips down, and Mariku wrapped his arms and legs around Ryou. "My Bunny."

Ryou smiled, remembering that they'd said something like this to each other before. "Yeah ... I'm your White Rabbit."

They both slept until late the next day, and Ryou was cross with himself because he showed up over forty minutes late to see Amane. She only laughed at him and said it was about time he slept in, but Ryou still hated himself for it.

Going back to work was an agony for him. He couldn't see Amane on mornings that he worked, only afternoons, and he felt like he was failing as a big brother not being there more.

He spent three nights in a row with Mariku, but then went back to his own house. Ryou had to toss everything perishable away and ended up having an unenthusiastic dinner consisting of Maruchan and frozen chicken nuggets that he ate alone in a quiet kitchen at a table that was far too big for one.

That night, Ryou stared at the dark ceiling, his brain alternating between Mariku and Amane, and somewhere in between he broke into tears because the two bedroom house that he once shared with Amane (their college pad as they liked to call it) was empty, and he couldn't take it.

Ryou curled his white palm into a fist and beat it against his pillow. He cast his blanket to the floor and slipped into fresh clothes. Ryou called a cab, and as he waited, he packed two boxes - one filled with the last foodstuffs in his kitchen, and the other with both his and Amane's house plants.

He was never sleeping in that house again, he realized as he packed the boxes into the trunk of the cab.

He showed up at Mariku's place at 3 a.m. Mariku gave him a key for the elevator cage a few weeks prior.

Ryou expected dark and quiet, but Mariku had the lights on and the radio playing. Orange, yellow, and scarlet paint decorated him like autumn.

"Bunny?"

"Am I interrupting?"

Mariku shook his head. "I couldn't sleep, so I said fuck it, might as well paint."

"I couldn't sleep either." Ryou smiled. "So I decided to come home."

Mariku dropped his brush into a cup of water and slinked towards Ryou. Ryou ran to meet him, jumping into his arms and kissing him. He'd never wanted to kiss more than at that moment. Even after Mariku carried him to the bed and prepped him, even after Mariku lifted him back into the air and slammed Ryou against the wall, Ryou sucked on Mariku's lips and the shell of his ear, or kissed his neck and shoulders. Anything Ryou could reach with his mouth he sucked, or licked, or lavished with brushes of his lips.

He kept his arms and legs wrapped around Mariku's body. Mariku threw back his head and cried out his orgasm, his knees buckling as he came. He stumbled to the bed, setting Ryou on the mattress and dropping to his knees.

Ryou sat up to see if Mariku was okay, but Mariku pushed him back against the mattress, kissing below Ryou's navel. Ryou squeezed his eyes shut and pushed towards Mariku's lips. He didn't tease Ryou or make him wait. He went straight for Ryou's cock and sucked. Ryou held his breath, turned on more so by the noises Mariku made, smacking, sucking, and little purrs of eager approval. Ryou let his breath stutter from his chest, gripping the sheets with fingers and nails, clenching his body. His stomach knotted in anticipation, and Ryou howled when release dawned on him like the sun.

Mariku curled up on the bed besides Ryou and closed his eyes.

Ryou gasped for breath. "Do you still need to paint?"

Mariku gave a sleepy huff of breath in response.

Ryou smiled. "I want my bed. It's big enough for  _adults_."

"Never needed a bigger bed before," Mariku mumbled.

"Well . . . you do now."

Mariku chuckled, burying his face in Ryou's hair. "But Bunny, we're so close like this."

Ryou opened his mouth to argue, but found his words swallowed up by his own smile. Instead he closed his eyes and let the sounds of Mariku's breathing ease him into sleep. It was too early in the morning when he had to wake up for work. Leaving Mariku's bronzed arms to shuffle around on the cold floor seemed like madness, but Ryou started a pot of coffee and let the caffeinated elixir drip while he showered and dressed for the day.

It was his normal routine. Work, hospital, dinner with Mariku, everything spiraled as before. Amane had good days. Amane had bad days. Amane had days where she'd finish another painting and rub in into Mariku's face, and Amane had days where she could do nothing more but sleep as Ryou spoke to her in the quiet of her room.

Ryou thought himself prepared, thought he'd seen what Amane's illness was doing to her and accepted it, but in the hospital she lost even more weight, her body sucking in on itself nothing but white linen wrapped over bones. Her eyes stayed bright, but there was always a glaze to them, and Ryou didn't know if it was pain or meds causing it, but either way he hated it.

Two weeks after Ryou moved in (officially) with Mariku, it stormed. By the time he reached the hospital, his clothes and hair dripped. A nurse, who Ryou had seen so many times that they were almost sort of friends, gave him a towel so he could dry himself, making Ryou a few minutes late for his visit.

He gasped when he entered Amane's room.

She sat on the bed, a wide grin on her face, and Mariku sat in a chair beside her with a similar grin. On the wall across from them was a huge mural, the painting Mariku always kept hidden when Ryou was home. The image was of clouds at sunset - the corners were storm clouds, dark and threatening an inevitable storm, but most of the picture was consumed by fire, an almost living light.

"Do you like it?" Mariku asked. "I've named it  _Amane Conquers Heaven_."

Ryou still held the towel, and he pretended to dry himself a little more as he wiped tears out of his eyes. "It's . . .wow, Mariku."

"And with this." Amane's grin melted into a soft, pleased smile. "My bucket list is now complete."

"What the hell?" Mariku asked. "Our race isn't over, yet. This one doesn't even count. That was the real reason your brother came to my studio. We never told you, but he wanted you to have your own painting."

Amane turned to him. "Ryou you would."

Ryou sniffed a little. "Well, that bowl of fruit was so damn ugly."

"I fucking know, right?" Amane laughed. "It means a lot, not just that you got him to paint it . . . but you inadvertently got him to play with the one concept I always wanted in Ishtar works - light."

Mariku and Ryou turned back towards the painting together, as if they needed to see it again to realize it was true. That first day, everything in Mariku's apartment had been plays on blacks, sables, violets, and crimson. Ryou had been so preoccupied with everything else happening, he never realized that, more and more, Mariku had been adding other colors - gold, ocher, white. Ryou held his breath as he thought of all the paintings sitting on easels back at their studio home. Mariku had bled Ryou onto his work after all, but not the red of his blood, but the white of his body, his skin, his hair.

"Huh." Mariku shrugged as if he'd never noticed either, but Ryou suspected otherwise. "All my goth fans are going to be pissed."

"I don't think so." Amane shook her head. "Your light is fire. It's as violent and destructive as ever, and your fans will always love you."

"As long as my reputation is safe." He snorted. "They can never know how lazy I've gotten with the whole abusive alcoholic maniac persona."

Amane snickered. "Just give Ryou hickies and space them to look like fingerprints on his neck."

Mariku rubbed his chin as if considering it. "Hey, that's not a bad idea."

Ryou rolled his eyes, deciding not to comment. It would only encourage them.

Mariku scratched the back of his spiky hair, giving Ryou a disapproving look. "Cafeteria for dinner?"

Ryou glanced out the slit of window not covered in gaudy curtain. "It's still pouring outside, so we better."

"You assholes don't have to be here. Go home."

"No," Mariku said. "Bunny has to stay here and stare at that damn picture. After all the trouble he went through, he deserves a chance to look at it."

Ryou smiled, but Amane rolled her glacial green eyes. After Mariku left she patted to the edge of her bed to encourage Ryou to sit down.

Amane stared at her nightgown, which meant the conversation would be too serious to look Ryou in the eyes. "It's not like you had to get a boyfriend. I mean, all right, I did try to set you up a hundred times, but not because you  _needed_  a relationship to validate you or anything stupid like that. I just wanted you to go places and do things."

"I do, Amane, and this time I mean it, so please don't worry about me."

"See, that's just it." Amane smiled. "I'm not. I really think you'll be okay now, and that-" she closed her eyes, a few tears slipping into the hollow of her cheeks. "-I'm glad, you know?"

Ryou wrapped his arms around her, hugging tight. He didn't cry because he wanted to be strong for her, but inside he ached.

"And holy shit I have my own Ishtar sitting in front of my face. How cool is that?"

Mariku returned with a tray overloaded with random things to eat. They all picked at it, their conversations veered down well-worn roads of dialogue. It wasn't until a nurse came in to change Amane's IV that they realized they should have left fifteen minutes prior.

Mariku hadn't taken his motorcycle since he had the painting, so they jogged home together. Their feet splashed across flooded concrete as they raced from awning to awning. The lightning made Ryou nervous and he flinched every time the sky lit up.

Mariku laughed, slinging his arm around Ryou's shoulder and keeping their bodies near. "Don't worry, Bunny, I won't let the storm hurt you."

"This from the guy with lightning rods for hair."

"Hell, how do you think I got this hair?"

"That makes way too much sense, actually."

They reached their home, standing side by side as the elevator carried them up. At night, darkness consumed the elevator except for the floor counter above the door. Shadows played tricks on Mariku's face, transforming him into a fiend that belonged in the dark. Ryou flung himself as Mariku at that moment, swallowing up Mariku's bottom lip.

The artist groaned, sinking into the kiss and into Ryou's arms. When the elevator stopped, they fought their way into the studio even as they fought to rip the clothes from their bodies.

"Is this my thank you, Bunny?"

"Yes," Ryou answered, bending Mariku over the futon. Ryou sucked his own fingers and then used them to press into Mariku's body. The artist exhaled loud, rugged pants from the rough foreplay, but spread his feet wider to give Ryou better access.

"Tell me if I get too rough."

Mariku laughed, shoving his ass backwards into Ryou's pressing fingers. "Believe me, Bunny, a sweet thing like you isn't capable of going too far."

"Stay there." Ryou sprinted to the other side of the room where their lube sat on a nightstand.

He raced back to Mariku, slamming straight into Mariku's entrance without giving Mariku time to adjust. Mariku grunted, holding the back of the futon for support and hiking his hips back. Ryou locked his fingers into Mariku's sloppy net of hair and pulled hard enough for Mariku's head to jolt back.

Lightning flickered through the windows, sending shards of dark colored light across the room. Red and violet danced up their bodies. The lights accented the scars on Mariku's back. Ryou stared at the grotesque beauty of them, how they rose tawny and proud above the rest of Mariku's dark skin.

"Harder!" Mariku growled.

Ryou released Mariku's hair, digging his nails into Mariku's hips for leverage. The heat of Mariku's body squeezed and trembled around Ryou's shaft, sending jolts of euphoric need stabbing into Ryou's belly. Hot, ragged puffs of air escaped Ryou's mouth as he hammered into Mariku's flesh.

With a savage push, Mariku bucked Ryou away from his body and stood straight. Ryou staggered back a few steps, blinking his lust-dazed eyes in confusion. Mariku turned and grinned. Stormlight and window paint stained his face a hellish red. He grabbed Ryou and lifted him off the ground. Ryou screamed, robbed of the security provided by the solid ground..

He felt himself be cast down, a fallen angel. The futon mattress broke his descent. Mariku sprang over the back of the futon and landed straddled across Ryou's hips, bottle of lube in hand. A moment later Ryou felt himself spread open and Mariku's thick fingers searching out his prostate. Ryou gurgled an out-of-breath moan.

"Ready?"

"Please," Ryou begged.

Mariku eased into Ryou's body. Ryou clenched his muscles, holding onto the filling sensation of Mariku's erection inside of him. He moved slow, giving Ryou time to adjust, but it was too good and Ryou didn't want to wait.

"F-faster," Ryou whispered.

Thunder rattled the windows in their pains; Mariku grinned at Ryou. "Not yet, Bunny."

Ryou whimpered, wanting more. He bit his lip as an idea came to him. Ryou started pushing up his hips. "Please, faster."

"No." Mariku's voice was rough, his body firm between Ryou's legs.

Ryou slapped him, not too hard, but enough to sting his hand. "Yes!"

A flash, so much like lightning, glinted in Mariku's eyes and a grin burgeoned across his face. "If that's what you want." He said it like a threat, and Ryou's heart fought against his chest.

Mariku slammed into Ryou, hard, making him scream. Then he set a quick, remorseless pace. All Ryou's thoughts and breaths disappeared beneath a long, low moan.

"Like this, Bunny?"

Ryou wailed in pleasure, not even attempting to respond with words.

"B-bunny." Mariku panted, losing his breath as he moved. "I asked you - a question."

" _Ahhhhh!"_

Mariku purred at Ryou's answer, dipping low and biting into Ryou's neck. Ryou couldn't scold him about the mark, it was too amazing a feeling to worry about.

"Get down to the rug," Mariku ordered.

Ryou didn't want to move, but when Mariku withdrew, he slid down to the rug beside the futon. Mariku re-entered. The floor had more leverage, allowing his movements to be deeper without losing speed. Ryou's arms and legs wrapped around him, as if to keep him, and by the time Mariku called out in orgasm, the storm had faded into a soft, pattering rain.

Ryou gasped, still hot and stiff. Mariku slipped out and Ryou made a disapproving sound at the loss of Mariku inside of him. Mariku bent down, snapping Ryou's nipple between his teeth and flicking his tongue. Then he sat down on top of Ryou's cock.

"Oh!" Ryou screamed, the heat and pressure he'd enjoyed earlier returning.

Mariku bounded in tight circles, thighs squeezing Ryou. "Am I tight?"

Ryou nodded, hoping it was enough because all he could do was moan and struggle to breathe. He felt like the entire storm condensed into his stomach, raging to escape back to the sky. Ryou grabbed Mariku's ass, encouraging him to move faster. Ryou bucked with his own hips, slamming into Mariku. With a final, savage moan, Ryou came until he couldn't breathe, and then he lay on the carpet with Mariku hunched over him - both men gasping for air.


	5. Chapter 5

Amane only lived for four months after the day Mariku gave her the painting.

She had a good week. The kind of week that let Ryou pretend she would recover and things would go back to normal - no, better than normal, because he'd still have Mariku to warm his bed at night and talk to during the day.

Ryou and Amane sat on her bed, playing cards. It was Saturday, so Ryou had extra time to visit with her. Mariku was out getting something better than cafeteria food for them to have for supper.

"You win." Ryou laughed when he realized her hand was better than his.

"That's three times in a row. You're not letting me win, are you?"

"No." Ryou shook his head. "It's just not my day, I guess."

Amane gave a little snort at the comment. "I'm tired."

Ryou scooped the cards off of the blanket and stored them back in the little stand near Amane's bed. "You can rest if you want. I'll read until Mariku gets back with dinner."

"Whatcha reading?" She asked.

"The Hours."

"Oh you nerd, that's a sad book. Don't read that."

"Sometimes I like to read sad things."

Amane lay against her pillow, watching Ryou the whole time. "Remember when we were kids? You read to me all the time."

"Yeah. You're favorite was  _James and the Giant Peach_."

"What do you mean  _was_  - that's still my favorite!"

Ryou laughed, grabbing his Kindle and going to the bookstore.

Amane grinned at him. "Are you seriously?"

"Of course I am. I'll read it to you."

They both laughed as Ryou waited for the book to download. He started reading it, Amane closed her eyes in order to listen. At first Ryou would lift his eyes up to check on her, but after two or three pages he started getting into the story and sat comfortably beside her and read out loud.

On page six, only page six, her heart monitor flatlined. The noise made Ryou jump in fright. He was mad that it made him lose his place. Then he was mad that it was broken and beeping. Only then did he realize  _what_  the sound meant, and the Kindle fell from Ryou's hands.

"Amane, no." He grabbed her shoulders. They felt heavy somehow, not quite right. "No, no, no. I'm not done yet. I'm not done. Stupid, you can't die on page six - I have to finish, and then we'll have some kind of moment and, and . . ." Ryou's throat grew tight; his vision blurred, "and then you jump up to scare me because you're only pretending and the nurses yell at us for horsing around. Amane!"

Nurses were yelling, and flooding into the room, trying to pull Ryou away but he fought against them. He didn't want them to go near her. They'd make her dead. They'd check and declare it and make it real and there would be no great relief when she jumped back awake and teased Ryou for falling for her stupid jokes.

Another set of arms grabbed at him. He fought them away, but they were bronzed and strong and lifted Ryou up into the air and carried him away from his sister even as he begged them not to. Ryou started crying, hiding onto Mariku's chest. Mariku carried him down the hall, and then Ryou felt them settle down on the floor behind a cabinet. It took Ryou a moment to realize that Mariku had carried him somewhere more private, and his sobs became wails of grief.

He felt Mariku trembling, and it dawned on Ryou that Mariku cried as well, and something about that made Ryou love Mariku even more - that he cried for Amane as well.

Ryou couldn't remember much of the night. He cried. He had to sign some things. He had to make decisions that he wasn't mentally capable of making. By the end of it all Ryou was back in the studio, calling Amane's best friend and letting her know what happened. He let her make the other phone calls to the rest of Amane's social circles.

But there was one last phone call Ryou had to make.

"Call him tomorrow," Mariku said.

"I really should tell him now."

"Fuck him."

A snort of sad, teary laughter clogged up Ryou's throat. "He deserves it, but I can't do it."

Ryou dialed his father's number in his cell phone. His heart skittered in his chest. A small, shameful part of Ryou wanted to hear his dad's voice - to grieve with him, to share the pain.

He got the answering machine.

Ryou swallowed, angry, hurt, but he should have  _known_  that's how it'd be.

"Amane's dead," he told the phone, his voice a pitch too high. "She . . .well, call me back, okay?"

Ryou hit the  _end call_  button, holding his breath.

"I'm sorry, Bunny."

"He should  _be_  here. He shhhhh-" A new flood of tears bathed down Ryou's alabaster cheeks. He threw the phone, hearing the crash as it busted a pane of black glass and disappeared.

Mariku combed Ryou's hair with his dusky fingers. "Nice throw."

"I'm sorry. I'll fix it, I just-"

Mariku scooped Ryou into his arms again, whispering  _shhhhh_  into snowy hair. "Fuck the window, Ryou."

"Now I won't know if he calls back."

Mariku kissed the crown of Ryou's head. "I'll go check and see if it survived."

He came back with a smashed cellphone, but they were able to change the sim card into an older phone Mariku had. Ryou waited . . . he waited after the sun set and the stars winked through the little starburst of broken glass, but his father never called. It wasn't until noon the next day, and then only to ask for the funeral information.

Ryou cried, and Mariku held him until the tears ran out and Ryou lay feverish and drained. They stayed in bed, Ryou's view eaten up by Mariku's broad chest and Ryou was grateful for it.

"Who won?" Ryou whispered into Mariku's chest.

"Who won what?" Mariku asked.

"The race. Who had more paintings?"

"She did," Mariku answered, his voice raw. "I have more started, but she had everything finished. Everything. That's what she told me last weekend. That she was done painting."

"Why?" Ryou asked, although he knew the answer and didn't want to hear it.

"Ryou . . ." Mariku paused. "She hurt. She hurt a lot. She tried not to let you see, but even holding to brush was too much. So . . . I think she was ready."

"I know." Ryou's tears returned. "But it still sucks."

"I know."

The funeral was awkward. Most of the guests were friends or coworkers of Amane's, and Ryou only knew a few of her closest friends. He spent most the time in the back, squeezing Mariku's hand and trying to keep his sobs as quiet as possible, as if they were somehow rude. He didn't even see his father until afterward.

The man stood there, small and gray. He looked like a husk, not the father Ryou remembered before his mother died. The grief of his mother's death had sucked everything up inside of his father, leaving little for Amane, and, Ryou supposed, nothing for himself.

"Dad." Ryou went to him, embracing him. Mr. Bakura felt stiff and foreign in Ryou's arms. He muttered something by way of greeting, but Ryou didn't hear it. His father stepped back to break their hug.

Ryou sigh, staring at his shoes.

Mariku stepped forward, shaking Ryou's father's hand. "Mr. Bakura. I'm Mariku Ishtar."

"Oh, um, were you a friend of Amane's?"

"More like family than friends."

The statement brought tears to Ryou's eyes that he didn't shed. He turned back to his father. "We're together." Ryou didn't like the way he phrased it, wondering if he should have said it less ambiguously.

He liked his father's reply even less.

"Oh."

The lone syllable hurt more than rejection. Even disgust and disapproval were emotions. His father's response was . . . nothing.

Mariku pivoted, turned to Ryou, and kissed his hand. "Bunny, let's go. There's no reason for you to be here."

Ryou blinked his green eyes. "But-"

"You know Amane hated scenes like this. I don't know if I believe in an afterlife, but I know if Amane still exists in some way - she's not here."

Ryou frowned. "Mariku."

Mariku silenced Ryou with a light touch to his lips.

"But I also know where she  _would_ be."

A small smile graced Ryou's lips. "Show me."

So they abandoned Ryou's father there, amongst strangers and flowers that Ryou arranged himself. He called out a question to Ryou, but Ryou didn't catch it, and couldn't bear turning around. He continued to walk, hand in hand with Mariku. They mounted the Ducati like it was a steed, and rode off, sun at their backs, into the darkening horizon.

Fifteen minutes later, Mariku stopped in front of a building with elegant, Greek-inspired architecture. "Where are we?" Ryou asked.

"Art gallery."

The answer was simple enough, and Ryou supposed it made sense that Mariku would think that Amane would prefer an art gallery as opposed to her own funeral. Ryou didn't fully understand, however, until they went inside and he saw the large sign announcing the artists on display.

_Welcome to the exhibit, A Study in Light and Darkness._

_Featuring the works of Mariku Ishtar & Amane Bakura._

Ryou turned. "Mariku?"

He sighed. "The plan was to kidnap her again - with the doctor's permission this time - and take her here. I've had this planned since I smuggled the paints into her room. My greedy-ass agent couldn't resist the thought of a full gallery with my new work in it, and the fact that Amane's work was limited only sweetened the deal."

Ryou stood, wiping at his eyes. "I can't believe you did this."

Mariku turned to face Ryou. He was a sight, hands shoved in suit pockets, hair wild and unrepentant, cocky grin adorning his face. "You need to know that I didn't do this to be nice. Nice doesn't sell work. She was  _that good_." Marku turned back towards the paintings, a small crowd gathered in front of each one. "I think she inspired my work more than I ever inspired hers."

Ryou chuckled, weak and grief heavy, but sincere. "At first, I worried that you were just being nice to try to get me into bed."

"Dear Bunny, us sharing a bed was an inevitability, but art is art, and I don't fool around with my art even for a cute white rabbit." He grabbed Ryou's hand and dragged him deeper into the gallery.

"She was right, you know, your paintings look better with more contrast," Ryou said as the passed by several of his paintings

Mariku nodded. "Have you ever heard the myth about the phoenix?"

"They burn up and a new one is born, right?"

"That's how I feel, Bunny, like a little phoenix, because even as she was dying, I was figuring out how to be alive."

Ryou squeezed his hand. "Mariku . . . thank you."

He shrugged. "I know you're sad, and there's nothing I can do to fix that, but the thing is, you shouldn't be sad. An artist cannot die as long as their work is admired. Amane will outlive us all, even me."


End file.
